


Of spirit and steel

by l_obsidienne



Category: Devil May Cry, DmC: Devil May Cry, La Divina Commedia | The Divine Comedy - Dante Alighieri
Genre: Dante Alighieri - Freeform, F/M, Norse, Shaman - Freeform, dante's inferno, spiritism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_obsidienne/pseuds/l_obsidienne
Summary: “I’ve been looking for you.” Her first words.“You’ve found me” were his.Yes, he wanted to make a witty remark. No, he couldn’t. Trapped in those hell-forsaken brown eyes that seemed to still have some hope left in this remnant of what humanity was. He wanted to unrwite himself from the story of his life for even thinking it “…worth fighting for…”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a bit rusty with writing so I just had to try this little thing to test out what I can and cannot do. Taking a break from the story I currently have ongoing because my brain is having a melt-down.

She was a shaman. He, a demon hunter.

And he loved her.

~~

Limbo was a terrifying place when one was alone, hunted, with a death sentence hanging above your head and a neon light signal that pointed to you and said “Fucking Dante”. Rifts were hard to find and Kat’s spells were washing away with the rain – with her out of the picture his trips to purgatory were long and often. Creatures that hell itself spat back out were constantly after him, constantly trailing him to the point where he was worried when everything got too silent around. Paranoia was a constant state of mind and he almost forgot how to live without it. Silence and a slice of pizza was all that he desired at any given time and he would worship whoever gave him those two minutes it took to munch down on that slice.

The city never looked the same when he was in Limbo. Bigger, smaller, hills and pits, lava and demonic spawn; being constantly on the run was making him age faster. Two years ago he would love taking the challenge of crossing the same street twice but never in the same way. So finding a spot that actually remained the same for more than the ten minutes he stared at it was a blissful dream that he begged not to be woken up from.

The door was wooden, window dirty and grimy and the only things visible behind it were rows of beads. The windows were painted with symbols he saw before in TV shows so much so that nothing could be seen. But what grabbed his attention more was the red sign with white writing that said “Open”.

He took a deep breath.

Opened the door.

She was standing in front of the register and looking at him.

She was not a demon.

~~

Something he will never forget was how she looked like when he first laid eyes on her. Naked, but still clothed. Mid-calf boots made out of leather pelts, tied with braided rope, legs for days, thighs hiding behind leather pelts tied to her waist, one cloth hanging from her lower waist to her knees with rows of beads and bones to decorate, naked stomach, breaths hidden only by a piece of cloth that tied behind her neck, hair white, down to her mid thighs, unkempt, some in dreads, beads decorating it. Bracers on her forearms, leather bracelets and the same kind of beads around her necks. A small animal skull on her head that looked more like a crown than anything. And her skin… her skin that would put pearls to shame, finger painted with the same runes he saw on the window.

She looked at him with her brown eyes and he felt his soul pierced by a thousand burning arrows.

She reached her hand out and with the grace of a prima ballerina showed him the symbol drawn on the floor.

He stepped on it.

And he looked at her for the second time. Brown hair in a ponytail, black jeans, biker boots and a white t-shirt. She was still beautiful.

He was not in Limbo.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Her first words.

“You’ve found me” were his.

Yes, he wanted to make a witty remark. No, he couldn’t. Trapped in those hell-forsaken brown eyes that seemed to still have some hope left in this remnant of what humanity was. He wanted to unrwite himself from the story of his life for even thinking it _“…worth fighting for…”_

“Norse.” She explained and pointed at the windows who were clean and to his surprise fully transparent with not a trace of paint on them. She walked with a confidence of an angel stepping in heaven after having blessed the fluffy cloud it played its harp on. “Enochian is useful indeed and will get you out of trouble temporarily but I fight with a stronger weapon. I just need someone to wield it.”

“That sounds like a bad movie I will never admit liking but would’ve seen it five times at the cinema.” Yes, his witty remark hiding a compliment. She was not impressed. He wanted to try harder. “What weapon?”

“Nature.” She was serious. He wanted to laugh. He stopped mid chuckle. He was confused. “Hurricanes. Landslides. Tsunamis… All of those are nature taking itself back.” She explained. It made sense. He was even more confused. “The same nature that will rip those filthy demons apart and bring its own peace again.” He blinked. “In the war between angels and devils, it’s essence of life that will always win.”

He was enchanted.

She opened a pizza box… it was still warm. It had no olives.

He fell in love.

~~

She walked with him through Limbo. She danced with the Nephilim with no scare in the world. She killed alongside of him with vines and leafs and poisons.

He lost himself in her long white hair and flowing moves of a terestrial martial artist locked in a perfect tango with the wind itself. He shot bullets and she dodged around them to reach different targets. No demon touched her because he was her protector. No weapon hurt him because she was his shield.

When they fought with Hell Knights, she called upon the rain.

When they fought with Harpies, he bet their lives on Ivory and Ebony. The heat of the earth for Frost Knights and the Rebellion for Stygians.

She brought upon the fury of elder gods when they were too many for them to handle. She fainted, spent and powerless after she gave him an opportune window to attack.

She hugged him after he crushed a Tyrant that was about to snap her spine.

He held her when she cried the loss of a litter of kittens, eaten by a Hunter Demon to spite her.

She pressed her forehead on his and held his cheeks in her soft hands, she let her hair caress his skin and her breath was a lullaby that took him out of his devil trigger.

He fell in love.

~~

He slept on a couch in her shop, safe, clean, always smelling of burnt roses from incense sticks that he always laughed at.

She jumped whenever she pulled her tight jeans back on and wiggled her feet to have them settle at her ankles. She was nice and soft spoken. She would hold him between her legs with his back against his chest and run her fingers over the outlines of his muscles, stopping where she knew a scar should have been but healed instantly.

He would listen to her breathing or talking about old religion like there was nothing more important that he could ever hear in his life. He would take her to bars and she would stare down any woman who would approach him until they apologized.

She would drink from his beer and claim it as her own and make him get a new one. She would sit on a chair separate from his and keep her legs on his knees.

She would kiss him. And she would stop the time from passing and the earth from spinning and the universe from expanding and she would make him forget to breathe and to exist in that moment when her lips were locked with his and he tasted her – peach cobbler, cigarettes and beer.

He would have her on her bed and he would be free to map her skin with his finger tips and remember all her dips and curves with his lips and carve his name in her spirit with his burning passion for her beauty that only he knew. He would learn the runes on her body and paint them with his tongue when they were not visible and speak them back to her as he would a prayer to her – a deity he knew existed and who treasured him now above all else.

She would arch against him and claw at his skin if only to have him closer and only hope that his body and hers molded so she could be with him for the eternity she was promised when she gave her soul to the neutral forces of nature that only wished to live on as they were meant.

He would take her over and over again, thrust inside her and made her belong to him, make her sin with a half demon, half angel and regret nothing. He would have her moan his name, call his name and scream his name. Beg and plead for him, hold on to his body and submit her own to pleasures beyond everything she had felt before. He would lay naked on top of her and listen to her heart to match his own rugged breathing to hers and calm his strained muscles down.

She would run fingers through his hair and hold him like her most precious treasure, whisper blessings upon the tattoo that would flash and burn him when he used his powers and lessen his pain when he healed the scratches she inflicted on his back. She would call him her Alpha and succumb to his love and sin whenever he called for her and he would embrace her like one does what he has most valuable.

He fell deeper in love.

~~

She would hold his hand and smile her hopeful smile at him when standing at the gates of hell.

He would push her white hair out of her eyes and nod and they would walk together in the second Circle of hell and he would kiss her with a burning, **lusting,** passion and she would remind him of why they were there.

_Love, which in gentlest hearts will soonest bloom_

_seized my lover with passion for that sweet body_

_from which I was torn unshriven to my doom._

_Love, which permits no loved one not to love,_

_took me so strongly with delight in him_

_that we are one in Hell, as we were above._

_Love led us to one death._

_(Dante Alighieri – Divine Comedy)_

She would deny him his kisses and touches and he understood with pain in his eyes. She shivered and stood grounded and he walked alongside her to reach deeper and stop the infernal plague from its core.

He took one step without her when she fell prey to her desires and grabbed his hips and he screamed her name when the serpentine Minos wrapped it’s judging tail around her once, twice, as many times as he took her body. She would scream his name and the Nephilim would strike Rebelion and sever the demon and have her back in his arms. She would stay on her feet and look at him and confess undying love and he would take her hand and unhindered walked through two the Third Circle.

They would hold hands still and she would smile at him and he took more and more of her that he could even bear. Her innocence, her beauty, her lust and her love he took until nothing was left of her and he was wondering alone, aimlessly through the foul, cold and empty sensuality of his life. He had her all and he wanted more and he nearly lost himself in his **gluttonous** guilt. But most of all, he wanted to give her everything he took and more and when Cerberus presented himself to him, his claws attempting to flay him and maul him, it was her who jumped on its middle head and snapped it with bear hands, having the entire beast crumble to dust and spend itself in the freezing mire.

He would have her in his arms again and pledge his soul to hers.

They would be filled with **greed** but he was only greedy for her touch. They would pass through **wrath** but she would look at him with brown eyes that could calm the angriest of storms. He committed **heresy** for his religion was now her and he would not lay a **violent** hand on her for he would not commit a sin against her. She would not lie to him and she would not have his love **fraudulently.**

They walked further and stepped on ice and there they stood whoever betrayed in love. They were in hell and they were dead and he felt his heart skip a beat when he saw in the ice a beauty with white hair and he breathed when he thought she was **treacherous.**

She squeezed his hand and looked at him with the smile of a thousand dusks and lifted a mountain off his heart.

“My sister…” she muttered and he nodded and they stepped further on the ice and they reached the center and the arch-traitor.

_...he had three faces: one in front bloodred;_

_and then another two that, just above_

_the midpoint of each shoulder, joined the first;_

_and at the crown, all three were reattached;_

_the right looked somewhat yellow, somewhat white;_

_the left in its appearance was like those_

_who come from where the Nile, descending, flows._

_(Dante Alighieri – Divine Comedy)_

Her spirits could not reach her so she could not call the fires of the volcanoes, the rumble of the earth or the pure touch of rain. She kissed him with fervor and stroke his cheek and he knew the moment has come where he was her weapon.

He carried the power of Sparda, the blessing of Eva and the undying love of her. He would fight against Lucifer’s trinity – Rebellion infused with force against his impotence, Osiris carrying angelic blessings against his ignorance. And finally, his bare hands, kissed and loved, for his hatred.

And there, in the depths of hell, he would kiss her again and they emerge right before dawn in a city full of confused mortals waking up to a reality they were brainwashed from.

And he would return with her at Devil May Cry and hold her – two immortals locked in a divine peace.


End file.
